


it's not quite the place i'd hoped to be

by keyringkie



Series: their blessing, his burden [6]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Blood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, and i'd rather tag it descriptions of violence than not have any warnings at all, golly gee there is just, it's just a lot of injuries, no real violence? implied a lot of war, tommy dies lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29670903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyringkie/pseuds/keyringkie
Summary: His knees protest every second he stays standing, his arms heavy as he wipes his face with a dirty sleeve. Tear tracks mark the only clean skin on his body, rivets of pale white cutting cleanly through dirty red and dust. He gasps out another breath, steadying his sword best he can with shaking hands.War waits for no man.- + -or: The death of a hero. They never do seem to get happy endings.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: their blessing, his burden [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028108
Comments: 13
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> make sure u read warnings on this one chief
> 
> title is from white wine in wetherspoons

Tommy hacks out another cough, forcing himself to stand. The sword is heavy in his hand and he can feel every stone inlaid in the cobbled road he stands on. Crimson blood is smeared everywhere - his skin, his clothes, his hair. He can’t tell if it’s his own or someone else’s.

His knees protest every second he stays standing, his arms heavy as he wipes his face with a dirty sleeve. Tear tracks mark the only clean skin on his body, rivets of pale white cutting cleanly through dirty red and dust. He gasps out another breath, steadying his sword best he can with shaking hands.

War waits for no man.

That’s what he is, isn’t it? A man? He supposes his eighteenth birthday has probably passed by now. Time starts to blur after years of battles and journeys.

He can pick a few from his memories, but only barely.

He remembers traversing hellish dimensions at twelve, returning to some king laden with a few dozen treasures and the armor heavy on his shoulders.

He remembers sharpening his sword at thirteen, willing some god to disappear. (It didn’t work.) Remembers crying the first time he realized there was blood on his hands.

He remembers wandering through cities with a hood on his head, watching the world run by.

He remembers leading hundreds to war. (He can’t remember what he was fighting for anymore.)

Remembers wondering why anyone would let a teenager lead an army, until his bracelet catches the light, or he catches sight of his back in a reflection, or he unsheathes his sword and traces the spindly red cracks webbed through the metal.

He can’t-

He falls to his knees, slamming his fists weakly on the ground. He can’t die here. That’s just- fucking  _ pathetic _ , isn’t it? After all this time?

What kind of hero dies to his own men?

A laugh gurgles out of him, caught in his throat. He hacks up another healthy serving of blood. Cobblestone is cool on his forehead, harsh on his hands.

His fingers curl into his hands, nails digging into callused skin. For fuck’s sake.

He never asked for this. He never wanted to be a  _ fucking _ hero. Distantly, in his mind, he remembers the tales they told in the town square, back before all of this.

He remembers a wanderer traveling through, setting up shop and regaling the children with stories of elsewhere, stories that didn’t feel real. He listened in wide-eyed wonder to legends of gods and heroes alike, hundreds before his time.

He knows now, better than anyone.

Heroes never get happy endings.

Here he lies, beaten and bruised. Alone in a burning town.

The stench of blood and sweat hangs heavy in the air as the smoke begins to shove it aside, bright fire dancing all around him. Taunting, almost, flickering just out of reach.

He tries to stand again and falls back to the floor unceremoniously, feeling his bones shift out of place.

He doesn’t have the energy to try again.

Turning his head to the side, he watches the smoke rise from cobblestone house frames and terracotta walls. Fire crackles in his ears, the only sound for miles. Or maybe not. It’s all he can hear.

The worn road of cobblestone is unyielding to his touch.

Tommy’s fingers loosen their grip on his sword and he hears it fall the last few inches to the ground, the metallic  _ clang  _ echoing in his ears.

He doesn’t know where anyone else is. He doesn’t know where his army went after that awful coup. Can he even call it a coup? Is it a coup if you’re not even their king?

An uprising, at least. Assassination at the very best, though he supposes for that they’ve got to kill the target themselves, and he’s still alive. For now, at least. Not for much longer.

Unless some god arrives and cures his wounds, he’ll die here. Just like he was supposed to so many years ago. He doesn’t know which to hope for.

Is this the fate that Wilbur talked to him about?

He feels his fingers relax, quivering slightly as they uncurl. He’s given up on surviving at this rate. It’d be worse to try and recover from this. Various injuries litter his body, of different degrees and severity. New cuts and bruises scattered over old scars long faded. His armor was long broken, straps and stray pieces of metal clinging onto him like a lifeline, far beyond saving. The gleam of their enchantments is dull, glazed over after years of usage and their final dismantling. He can’t feel his left arm at all.

Blood smears on the cobblestones beneath his hands.

Exhaling slowly, Tommy shuts his eyes. It’s kind of stupid. Really stupid, actually. He was kinda expecting to at least go out with a bang. In battle, maybe. Returning home from a long quest. Not…

Not dying alone in a burning city.

Where are the gods now? Where are the three who cursed him with this fate? Where are those he helped against his will? Where are the immortals he served, the humans he was revered by?

A gentle touch ghosts through his hair, fingers lightly combing through his tangled blond mess. He can’t even tell if it’s real or not.

_ “I’m sorry, Toms.” _

He can’t breathe. Otherwise, he’d laugh. Sorry?

He died a hero. Surely, that’s how he’ll be remembered. Maybe he’ll go down in history.

_ “You deserved a better fate than this, mm?” _

He can’t find it in himself to agree. He got what he deserved, in the end. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

A quiet laugh echoes through the town, over the crackle of flames that surround them.

_ “Don’t be afraid, little hero, for the universe is on your side.” _

What a load of rubbish that is. Fingers press gently to his forehead, cool to the touch.

_ “You’ll be safe, Tommy. I can promise you that.” _

He heaves in a breath, his chest shuddering from the effort.

_ “I can promise that you’ll be home.” _

He exhales.

And his mind goes blank.


	2. Chapter 2

Tommy opens his eyes with a start.

He stands ankle-deep in a white cloud that expands as far as he can see. It’s soft around his bare feet, light to the touch. The black of the void hangs heavy around him.

He flexes his fingers cautiously. He’s.. unarmed. (And uninjured?) There’s nothing on him but the clothes he wears, a soft white top adorned with golden buttons on the cuffs of his sleeve. Black pants hang loosely on his legs, comfortingly cool to the touch and cinched around his waist.

He walks forward, tufts of cottony white drifting through the air as he leaves footprints behind him, venturing further into the void.

A castle looms in the distance, steely white against the black of the sky. Its base blends slightly with the cloud it stands on, so you can’t quite tell where the structure starts.

Light blue spires blend with white, accentuating the pure lack of color the structure seems to have. It feels almost… dead.

There’s this strange moment where he blinks and glances behind him, and when he looks forward again he’s hundreds of feet forward standing in the courtyard before the archway. Any other time he probably would’ve thrown up from the sudden change, vertigo churning through his head. Here, things seem… different.

He traces the small carvings on the wall as he walks, numbers, dots, and dashes etched into the quartz. A message, maybe, but not one he knows how to decode.

He comes to a stop at the entrance to a larger hall, empty but for a small pedestal in its centre. A glass casing surrounds a wilted Wither Rose, a flower he wasn’t even sure… existed.

Tommy walks closer, his feet cold on the smooth tiles of the floor. His fingertips graze the glass, touching it lightly, staring at this strange display before him.

A clock ticks in his ears, stuttering slightly. It… feels like more time passes between each tick, but he can’t tell for sure.

“Hello there, little one.”

Tommy glances up casually, never taking his fingers from the glass. His survival instincts are muffled. Something in him just… tells him it’s okay. He doesn’t have to be on edge here.

A figure stands next to him, a few inches shorter. Brown hair nearly swallows tinted goggles propped on his head, a simple light gray hoodie adorned with a darker swirl. His entire outfit is made up of varying shades of gray, from the lenses on his goggles to the sneakers on his feet. A golden pocket watch hangs from a chain on his throat, ticking loud enough to echo through the room. He gives Tommy a knowing smile, brown eyes staring at him knowingly.

“Welcome to the In-Between.”

Tommy hesitates for a moment, shifting away slightly.

“...Karl?”

Karl chuckles. “Is that how you perceive me? How interesting.”

Tommy exhales slowly. “So... if you aren’t Karl, who are you?”

Karl-not-Karl hums, examining the flower. “I don’t believe I have a name. It’s unimportant, really.”

Tommy glances around them, examining the pillars around them paired with a lofty ceiling.

“Didn’t I die?”

“Technically, no. By all mortal accounts, yes.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

Karl-not-Karl chuckles, plucking the black flower from beneath its glass casing. He spins it in his fingers, watching as it manages to wilt further in his fingertips, the inky black of the petals draining to a glowing white.

“Is this… the afterlife?”

“Haven’t you been there? You tell me.”

Tommy huffs, glaring at Karl-not-Karl, who’s still preoccupied with the gleaming flower. It blooms in his fingertips, a sparkle of white drifting to the floor. He sighs, dropping it back on the pedestal and making his way towards a smaller exit of the hall, glass casing forgotten.

Tommy nearly trips over himself following, not-Karl’s footsteps the only sound in the castle besides his breathing. It’s eerily quiet, with the black nothingness hanging heavy outside the windows.

“You called this place the… In-Between? The fuck does that mean?”

Not-Karl just gives him a knowing look, a smile on his face stretched too thin.

“Your patrons gave up a piece of their godhood to raise you to become one.”

Tommy freezes. “...wait, wh-”

“Granted, they probably didn’t even know they did it.” Not-Karl continues walking like he’s said nothing special, tapping his finger to the side of his watch. “Three of them split the effort so I doubt they noticed the change.”

Karl pauses in front of a colorless door, pushing it open to reveal a hallway. Black walls, floors, ceilings, both walls lined with thousands of doors. It seems to stretch on for eternity.

“This is the In-Between. Not of life and death, but of mortality and godhood.”

He turns, beckoning Tommy inside.

“They call me the Gatekeeper, I suppose. A guide, maybe. I have existed long before many others, and will continue to exist even after the end of time, for I am time itself.”

Tommy follows not-Karl through the hall, passing door after door.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“Of course it does. But I volunteered for this work. It’s a small price to pay.”

“Pay for what?”

Silence fills the hall, drowning Tommy in its grasp for far too long before not-Karl exhales.

“I don’t believe I need to tell you.”

He stops abruptly at a seemingly random door, the frame glowing a dim red. It reflects on the black glass beneath their feet.

“It was nice to meet you, Tommy.”

Tommy opens the door hesitantly.

A swirling portal floats in the air, unconnected to any sources that could’ve built it. Karl closes his pocket watch, letting it dangle from its chain.

It shifts from a bright green to a tinted red and orange, sparks of black occasionally flying out.

“Is this goodbye?”

Not-Karl chuckles. “It’s not a hello.”

Hesitantly, he reaches out and sticks his fingertips through, and then yelps when his whole body is shoved through.

He glances back once.

Karl stares back at him with wide eyes, the brown he once saw overrun by teal swirls. A crazed smile stretches across his face as he waves goodbye, slamming the door shut.

All he can see is the red, the orange, the yellow, a fire tauntingly close to his face.

He feels himself fall apart, his body picked to pieces before it’s stitched together again, bit by bit.

He stumbles out the other end of the portal, gasping for breath. Tripping suddenly, cold and uneven ground greets his hands, giving him a well-needed shock. He forces himself to sit up, not looking around quite yet. A shattering noise follows a few moments later, and a quiet hum as the portal breaks behind him. He takes a breath in.

Holy shit. He’s actually  _ alive. _

Tommy exhales slowly, uncurling on the floor. It’s dark, wherever he is. He sees faint lighting from somewhere but…

Oh. What’s glowing?

Carefully touching the side of his head, his fingertips brush against something soft. He pulls it away from his face, examining the dimly glowing white flower in his hands. It wilts more and more every second, disintegrating to dust before his very eyes.

He sighs, brushing it aside. There’s something else on his head, but he can’t be bothered to check what he’s wearing. Not when he’s…

Where is he?

Leaving behind the ashes, he treks forwards, peeking his head out into the hallway. It’s.. eerily familiar.

Isn’t this..

His feet move forwards on instinct, rounding corners like he knows where he’s going. He speeds up instinctually, bounding through the halls until he bursts through the entrance.

The afterlife stares back at him, islands floating in the midst of the huge cavern. It’s expanded since he’d last been here at least a few years ago, a large void eating away at a corner and an upscaled housing unit carved into one of the walls, lanterns and glowing vines lighting the ladders and platforms dug into the stone.

He’s…

“Tommy?”

He turns abruptly, his eyes swimming with tears. Wilbur stands there, realization dawning on his face as he runs and hugs the younger. Realizes where he’d been, and how fate had finally worked its way back to here. Just like Wilbur said it would.  _ The threads, tying together, one single ending no matter the journey. _

Tommy sobs into his chest, hugging him closer. It’s warm. It’s warm, and it’s safe, and he’s okay.

He’s home. Finally, finally, he’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the tags said hurt/comfort for a reason cmon guys
> 
> anyways this one was dedicated to the person who bookmarked this series as "whoo fun Tommyinnit stuff Not rly it's super sad" when i hadn't even attempted to write real angst yet /hj  
> thank you for that it made me laugh
> 
> the in-between was inspired by both the quartress and the actual in between in canon dsmp, so that's why there's hints of color and a lot of void :) not-karl was very fun to explore and i like reminding you guys that there's a lot more to this world than just the sleepy bois. maybe i'll expand to that after i finish this series.
> 
> thank u for all the comments on the last chapter they were hella motivation to finish this LMAO i don't reply because i get nervous about it but reading them makes me real happy :)

**Author's Note:**

> giggles
> 
> \- + -
> 
> socials:  
> [tumblr](https://keyring-kieran.tumblr.com/)  
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/keyringkie/)


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